The Faerie Tales
by MoogleTerra
Summary: FF6 A series of fairy tale styled one shots. Ficlets, drabbles, what have you.
1. Sleeping Beauty

**Sleeping Beauty**

**The Faerie Tale Series**

Once upon a time there was a young man who loved a young woman very very much. They lived in the same village across the marketplace from each other. They had known each other since the girl moved there when she was about eight. The pair played together for years, growing into very close friends.

Once upon a time the young man invited the young woman to a meadow outside their village to talk. She accepted of course, though wondered what he wanted to tell her that could not be told in their rooms.

They went through the trees, hand in hand, with the sky an azure blue above them, above the treetops, and above the world. It was late winter, with frost in the air, adding a slight chill, but their village was so far north, the weather remained pleasant throughout all of the ever changing seasons.

As their feet trod on moss and rotting leaves, she held her shawl close to herself, but never let go of his hand. She loved how warm he felt, how smooth his skin was despite the callouses that had formed due to his hobby.

"_He's always so warm,"_ She thought smiling sweetly, looking up from their clasped hands to the back of his bandanaed head. His light brown hair almost looked gray in some lighting, and had grown long since his last hair cut. Blue, navy, indigo, and deep purple scarves were wrapped around his waist, with strings of beads jingling.

She glanced at her own body, seeing a turquoise scarf tied securely around her own slim hips, a gift to help keep her warm. Her dark lavender skirt was hemmed shorter than other girl's skirts so her petticoats and dress would not get dirty from her and Locke's activities.

Lone leaves stuck to the trees, waving gently as the wind moved slowly through the woods.

The young lady saw a clearing up ahead, the meadow the young man spoke of.

"_It's a special place! I found it last week, and it's undisturbed. It's like it was meant for us!"_ He seemed so excited when he told her this, and now she could see why. Winter flowers bloomed throughout the pale, tall grasses, and sweet aromas wafted up to their noses, tickling their sinuses and making them both smile as they came to a downward slope in the land.

His hands were firm, missing his usual leather gloves, as he helped her down so she wouldn't slip and fall.

"_Always the gentleman,"_ Another smile played on her rosy lips, eternally happy to just be around him.

Clouds rushed in from the south as they wandered closer to the center of the meadow, an omen to snow.

Again, he led her on, until he stopped, she almost bumped into his back at the abruptness of the stop. The young man turned to her, face lit up, "Here we are! The meadow."

"It's pretty here, and so very peaceful," She nodded, unable to stop smiling.

"Well, down I go!" He dropped on to his back with a thump, laughing as pieces of grass flew up along with dirt, and settled on his navy jacket.

"Aren't you going to join me? The view is quite nice, ya know!" He laughed, gesturing for her to fall to the ground as well. She took a breath, always having to ready herself for things like this, and let herself fall backwards, heart rushing in her ribcage. Falling was one of her fears, but she knew that he would never let her get hurt.

The grass was soft with weather and wear, old from the last few seasons of sunshine and rain, and did not hurt her back when she connected with the land. She laughed on impact, feeling elated and happy that she overcame another fear of hers, even if it was just a tiny fall.

Once upon a time, snow fell on Kohlingen. At the sight of the fluffy little flakes of ice, many of the townspeople hurried inside, many telling their children that they would catch their deaths outside in the cold. However, a pair of teenagers remained outside, watching the ice crystals fall to the planet slowly and wistfully, dancing on the breeze and flitting this way and that.

"You know something Rachel?" The young man said, wincing as a snowflake fell in his eye. He looked over at the girl who lay next to him, wiping the flake away with the back of his hand.

"Yes? What is it Locke?" She whispered, feeling his hand tighten around hers.

"I think you're as beautiful as these snowflakes. Unique, pretty, crystalline, and wonderful," Locke said to her softly, letting his lips touch her ear as he spoke.

"What about cold? My hands are always cold. My parents think I'm cold," Rachel frowned slightly then, remembering how her parents always scolded her.

"Well, then it's my job to warm you up!" He kissed her ear then. She shuddered at the heat, but enjoyed his touch all the same as she always did.

Once there was a pair of teenagers in a meadow, kissing each other feverishly, not even noticing the snow that fell upon them because of the heat they made.

It's a wonder they didn't catch their deaths out there.

After some time went on, the young man asked the young woman to come with him to a cave, to see a treasure he had found days before.

"A-Alright, is it safe?" Rachel asked, putting a finger to her lips to nibble on; a nervous habit she had developed in her youth.

"Of course it's safe, my love. I would never take you somewhere dangerous, you know that!" He said, grasping both her hands in his, putting his forehead to hers, gazing into her dark brown eyes as a smile spread across her face.

"Yes, I know that. You're my hero, Locke Cole!" She giggled, happily sneaking a kiss on his nose before pulling away.

"Where is it?" She flounced her skirts, turning back to face him.

"It's above the town a few miles, come on!" They held hands again, and ran off in the direction he specified.

They reached the cave, and the young man ran ahead to a bridge, his lantern rocking back and forth on its ring.

"It's just across here, Rachel!" He started sprinting across, but rumbling sounded, echoing off the rock walls. Rachel caught up to him, knowing what was about to happen, and pushed Locke across with all her might. He staggered on to the ground, hearing the wood splintering and breaking. Rachel tried to reach the edge, her skirts tripped her, even though they were cut shorter. A second step sent the bridge crumbling down the cavern, a scream filled the air, a name filled the air.

Distraught, not caring whether he would be injured or not, he jumped down after her, finding her crumpled and broken on the ground. Her chest rose and fell painfully, blood oozed from her raven hair.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rachel, who couldn't remember anything. This deeply hurt those around her, especially the man who wanted her hand.

Her mother wept, her father cursed, her lover tried helping her to remember her life, but all of his efforts were in vain. Despair hit him head on, especially when he went back to the cave where the accident occurred. He retrieved the treasure, and kept it in his pocket to run his fingers across whenever his love doubted who he really was.

Eventually, the girl got angry at the boy, seeing how her parents grew to hate him, and told him to leave. He kept refusing, asking for just one more chance, but her father threw him out their door. As he tumbled in the dirt, he saw her retreat into the house, a blank expression on her face.

He left that town, packing his things, and went on the road to who-knew-where.

In Jidoor, he asked the apothecary about amnesia remedies, but he had none for the man.

In Zozo, he asked pub owners about remedies for healing a broken memory, but they only offered him tainted drinks.

In South Figaro, he met an old lady who pointed him in the direction of Narshe, saying that an old man there might be able to help.

In Narshe, he met a man who said he may find what he was looking for while doing some work for an organization he helped run. The members often found strange, but wonderful things during their travels. Locke accepted, needing a distraction like work, and an opportunity to find rare relics.

Once upon a time, there was a young Returner named Locke who loved treasure, and often found it easily, even if it was in somebody's house already. A year had passed, and he found nothing but rumors and a new friend. That new friend was a king, and told him about a recent Imperial bombing in Kohlingen. The man ran, finding a way to his home town very quickly, and when he arrived, he found Rachel's house in shambles, along with many other old friends.

Her parents were long dead from the destruction, but when he found Rachel, whose skin was bruised, her dress and stomach blackened, her hands were bloody, but reached to him all the same.

"L-Locke...you came!" She gasped, blood pouring out of her mouth.

"Rachel! You remember me? My dear, please, stay with me," He picked her body up, hugging her tightly, running his fingers through her lustrous matted hair, finding that the shine came from the blood.

"You pr-promised me...that you would protect me...I'm so happy that you're here."

Tears fell from his cheeks, landing on her hair, on her neck, making Rachel gasp at the sight.

"Love, you're...crying?"

"I'm so s-sorry. I'm sorry!" He sobbed, choking on them as she tried shushing him.

"Locke..." She said, and did not say a single thing after-wards. Locke only cried harder after she went limp in his arms, his name lingering in the burning air.

In a burning town, with broken little houses and shattered little lives, sat a house at the far east edge, undisturbed and lonely. Locke didn't want to leave Rachel by herself, so he brought her with him to his little house and sat her on his bed. At his table, he put his head down, thinking sadly about how he could never hold his dear close again.

_"I don't want to be alone. Not again, not like I was before she came to this village. I want her to be near me...forever."_

A knock came at his door, but he ignored it, not even looking up. After a moment, the person knocked again, shouting, "Are you alright in there?"

He recognized the voice as the voice of his grandmother's old friend who had taught his grandmother everything she knew about herb medicine.

The man opened the door, looking around briefly before spotting Locke staring up at him.

"Are you okay, lad?"

Locke shook his head, "No, Rachel is dead." The old man looked over at the bed, at the corpse that lay on top of the faded sheets.

"My gods, we need to wait for the coffin maker to come back. He seemed to have run off during the attack."

"No, she's staying here," Locke stood on shaky legs, fists clenched.

"But she'll decay, rot! Do you know what that means?"

"Yes I do know, but if I recall correctly, you are an herb doctor."

"Yes I am, but what are you asking of me?" The old man shut the door behind him, wanting to understand the young man.

"Can you preserve her? Save her for me? I-I'll pay you greatly if you do this for me. Just make it to where she won't age or rot away until I can find something to save her from death!" Locke was nearly hysterical now, dropping to his knees.

"I-I failed her. I failed protecting her from harm like I always promised her."

"So this is what love can do to the youth...alright, I'll use my herbs on her. Clean her up for me while I go run for my medicines." The old man ran out the door, muttering to himself about how he went from checking on the dead to helping a love sick boy.

The fires went out when the rain started, meanwhile, Locke had a bucket of soapy water next to his bed, and a cloth in his hand.

"You have so much blood in your hair, Rachel. It's so hard to get out," The man said as he scrubbed carefully so he wouldn't accidentally rip any strands out. He found a spare dress for her in his dresser from when she would spend the night with him, and threw out her blackened one.

"You're so cold...but I guess I'll have to warm you up after I'm done cleaning you," He dipped the cloth in the bucket, wringing it out, and gathered more soap in it.

"My Gran's old friend is going to help you stay the way you are now forever. I hope I find something to bring you back to me before forever though."

Once upon a time, Locke had an old friend preserve Rachel's body for him in his basement. After the procedure, Locke brought Rachel dozens and dozens of roses: pink, red, yellow, white. All of them were her favorites, all had special meanings that she told them when they were little children.

"_This one means young love! See, it's all pink and cute!" Rachel held up a pink bud, smiling at it. _

"_Just like us, right? We're young and in love!" Locke said, touching the pink petals gently._

"_Yeah! Now this one means deep, passionate love. Romantic, huh?" She said, pointing to a lovely red rose._

"_And this one means innocence because it's white. It's so pretty."_

_Locke nodded, smiling at the delicate flowers in the vase._

"_Now, this one is really special. It's yellow, and that means for remembering."_

"_So if you ever forget me, then I should give you yellow roses!" Locke laughed, picking the yellow flower up. _

"_But I'm not going to forget you Locke, I love you too much!"_

"Yellow, for remembering." He sighed, filling a blue vase with the yellow flowers on the table near Rachel's bed.

"Isn't this a little morbid, son? Keeping your girlfriend in the basement like this?"

"No, she would want it this way. I'm going to find something to bring her back to me. A treasure, a relic, a potion, something..."

"Alright then, I'll keep your treasure safe and sound while you're gone, my boy! Fwah, ha, ha!" The old man wheezed, grinning beneath his beard.

Once upon a time there was a man named Locke, who loved his princess very dearly, and kept her sleeping body in his floral decorated basement. She was to sleep forever, waiting for him to find their true love's kiss to bring her back to him. He searched high and low for that kiss, knowing that her poisoned sleep would keep her from aging, and keep her eyes closed. She was his sleeping beauty, awaiting their special kiss to bring her back to life.


	2. Let Down Your Hair

**Let Down Your Hair**

**The Faerie Tale series**

**A/N: The Faerie Tale series is a series of ficlets with fairy tale elements in them~ This installment is about Celes.**

Oh, if only she could wash the red out of her hair, she would be so happy. She would endure any injustice and inhumanity, if only she could cleanse her hair. She cared not for the rustic stains on her lime green bodice, nor for the crimson plumes that billowed out on her once snow white cape. She did not bother worrying about the revolting blots that were on the rock floors when she was brought in, and tried her best to ignore her shackles.  
>Her hair was her only vexation.<p>

_"Your hair is so beautiful, Celes. A woman's hair is her crowning glory. And yours is like golden silk brought from the east," _her father figure told her while running an ivory brush through her silken locks. Leo loved playing with her hair in the evenings after she had a hard day of training,when they were both full from supper, and winding down for the evening. He never once complimented another feature of hers, yet she had many pleasing ones. Her eyes, the icy blue, smoldering lamps that lit her face aglow.  
>Her nose, pointed and button-like; the perfect size for her face.<br>Her cheeks that blushed easily, turning a rosy color instead of an unsightly crimson.  
>And her skin, milky, pale, creamy, and smooth as a rose's petals.<br>But he never said anything about her other features, even when she went out of her way to look pretty for him to notice.

It was always, "Oh, Celes, you're hair looks positively lovely up," and "Celes, your hair is so soft."  
>She had wanted Leo to see her for more than his adopted daughter with the hair like sunshine, but she knew somehow, that he never would. So she tried her best to keep her hair lovely, to make him happy, and to see him smile through the laugh-line crinkles around his mouth and eyes.<br>She found that she could only move her arms about two feet away from the wall without catching her wrists painfully.  
>Whenever one of her guards was asleep in the chair near the door, mumbling about foods she probably would not be able to eat ever again after this ordeal, Celes would run her fingers through her hair. Tangles started snarling together during the second day of imprisonment.<br>After the commander was finished slapping her, hitting her, kicking her into the wall with all of his might, blood oozed down from her wounds and into her once sunlight shining hair.  
>The guards had only given her a piece or two of cheap bread from the bakery and a glass of water every day, knowing that it was definitely not enough for a woman of her strength to function properly. Her fighting edge left her hands, her magic power had drained her quickly after the first day she was beaten so badly that she used as many cure spells as she could, only to faint from the excess strain on her already fragile body.<br>Normally, she would have put up more of a fight, she would have frozen the soldiers who wailed into her with their fists and boots solid, she could have killed them easily.  
>But, for what she had done, she deserved her punishment. Disregarding orders, saving people in South Figaro from being blasted away, telling the Emperor that "he could go rot;" what would General Leo say?<br>Surely, he would be disappointed in her, but perhaps he would be proud of her for standing up for her beliefs.  
>He always was one to be bull headed about his ideals, and Celes had learned that trait from him quickly.<br>Celes sat on the ruddy floor, dried blood becoming a brown crust on her legs, her eyes burning with her internal chill, but never giving away that she was afraid of Leo seeing her like that. Not only did she betray her life in the Empire, but she was letting his favorite pastime deteriorate.  
>Celes gave her fingers another forlorn pull through the matted fading golden locks, thinking of all of the times Leo had told her that he sought solace for his past misdeeds in her. That when they sat together all of those evenings, him brushing and combing her hair, that he finally felt at peace with the world. Even though she longed for the day that he said, "You look breath taking today," she loved those moments with him before the hearth.<br>Her weak arms gathered all of her hair together over her right shoulder, holding it as straight as she could with those chains in the way, and stroked her hair. It smelled like iron from her blood, but also like a hint of the floral soap she used to clean it when she bathed.

_"Celes, Celes, let down your hair. Let me hold you in my lap. Let me brush your hair."  
><em>

Her fingers struggled to comb through_, _making the strands pull at her scalp slightly.

_"You know something, love? Sometimes I think your hair is magic, the way it seems to glow, and melt away all my sadness."  
><em>

The gold was fading now, the glow barely shining through.  
>A guard came in then, his eyes looked bloodshot, fresh from the pub she assumed. He ignored what she was doing with her hair, and smacked the sleeping guard awake.<br>They both conversed for a moment, before turning on her.

In between punches and blows to her head, she thought of those happy moments with Leo. In front of the fire, both taking solace in her gift. _  
><em>


End file.
